Much Doo-Dah Over Nothing

I didn't know that. "SUPERMAN" could twirl around on his torso too? Don't blame moi. When moi picked up the figurine, poor "SUPERMAN" was strapped to the box by his limbs. Looked like he was having bondage fun or something. Thank you MR MALE COHOST of the morning talkshow. Now we all know what else "SUPERMAN" is capable of. In fact MR MALE CO-HOST even demonstrated the various karma sutraic positions "SUPERMAN" could be laid. On the lap, on a shoulder and behind someone's back. Muahahahahaha. BURP.

Singapore Idol's WILDCARD screening saw a vast improvement in all the contestants' performance, vocally and imagily. I couldn't really pick who should go on to the GRAND FINALS. Because some of the idol wannabes who performed poorly the last round did amazingly well this time. All said, the deserving contestants were indeed selected for the finals. SINGAPORE, you showed yourself to be not relying solely on looks but also on vocals when you voted.

But since this is a American Idol spinoff and under its wings, we can't be expecting any different I suppose. This is sad. It should have been a real talent quest with our local singers singing compositions composed to suit their voices. And the fact that this is a "competition" doesn't help. And I am sure we don't want another Mariah Carey clone right? In fact, I wonder if all those popular singers in the States underwent a competition like this before they were talent spotted.

On television now, there is actually something called "The Barbie Diaries". This show is really funny with animated, talking, walking barbies doing the AMERICAN doo-dah. Instead of "precisely" or "exactly", they have "totally". FAR OUT, galls!!!! And of course, "Oprah" rocks. Her series have had themes on plastic surgery, bras, jeans, image and house makeovers and one episode where Brooke Shields came on and chatted about her post-natal depression. Uproarious as BROOKE SHIELDS emotes like nobody else could.

You shouldn't miss this movie "JUST MY LUCK". I laughed the moment this hoity toity lost her luck upon having her fortune read by a gypsy. She broke her heel, had water splayed on her and a whole host of misfortunes raining down on her. To think just a while ago, she was living the high life with everything going her way. You deserve it, GALL!

More amazing discoveries. More nature parks, water and a trail right behind one. This one offers such a spectacular view of the water and skyline and totally so deserted, I can only hope to take my bf along on this trip to savour its splendour. Who wanna see it with me? We could hold hands, FRENCH kiss and have *** all at one go! ***Double winks.

But as I have mentioned before, perhaps for the umpteenth time. Having to take a bus or train just to have a walk in the woods or stretch for exercise is so demeaning. Plus, you lug all that stuff with you for a change-over : gym, run, walk and shop gear-up. You know what I mean.

And if I have to take transport at a neighboring estate, then shouldn't I be living there instead? And it is strange that nobody at me place here takes the bus. All of them take the train. That is because with just seven bus services plying the precinct, they don't go all places, especially places where people work or wanna play.

Moi is moving again. You must have read all my reasons for this in all my other blogs. And Daniel was a let-down in a way. I shan't blog about it here but well, there are only two of us and if he had made it more like a flat-sharing doo-dah and less dollars and cents, I think I might have stayed on despite everything. Oh well.

I found a perfect place. It is a central location where I could access a couple of gyms within walking distance and the whole route is dotted with amenities like a library, swimming pools, buses, stadia, trains and a town park. It is astounding that it straddles two estates. WOW! Two towns for the price of ONE! INCREDIBLE!

Well rest assured all the hunks are still very much alive everywhere moi goes. The only hope I have is to bag one. *Drools and winks.

What Of This LIfe? Dark Thoughts

A thought struck me again. If this trend of "thoughts" striking me ever so often continues, I might as well be Benjamin Franklin's kite or a lightning rod. The splendid idea of cascading tower blocks in a public housing project could , in fact, be extended to a zig-zag continuum of apartment flats in an estate. It will truly be thinking out of the box, as most of our current designs are "boxed up" concepts.

David Rasif was my senior in the short time I spent at a premiere junior college. How his age was stated as it is, is beyond me, unless his time spent in education had somehow been protracted. Whatever it is, my fervent wish is to bump into him when I next visit Thailand on a discounted airfare voucher. Perhaps his good fortune will rub off on me and bless me with eternal wealth to last a lifetime.

Due to a technical glitch, a contestant had been wrongly pronounced to be a Singapore Idol finalist. It is incredulous that Matilda D'Silva is now out of the running, though she still has that Wildcard chance. This must be the gravest injustice, I thought.

People are just people, whoever they are. It does not matter if they are gay or straight, white or black, young or old, educated or undeducated, rich or poor, man or woman. Therefore I shouldn't be expecting anything more from my fellow gay brethen, though I wished we could be a bit closer if sexuality-affiliation is to be the entry to an exclusive club.

Therefore one would advise me about sunning a buggy bed when fumigation should rightly have been the answer. Or to wear fluffy, designer bedroom sandals which are dangerously slippery in the bathroom when Crocs TM sandals would be a safer bet. By the way, the latter was propositioned by no other than Mr Psycho himself.

Last night, I strolled the park after my jog. The BBQ pits were filled with the delicious aroma of skewered meat being grilled. One party even did theirs at a pavillon. The nearby al-fresco diner by the water's edge was full-house.

This set me thinking about how Singaporeans, especially younger Singaporeans, are living it up here. The cars they drive, the club memberships they own, the houses they live in, the exotic travels they make and the fine-dining they indulge in. They wouldn't think twice over dinner at some fancy restaurant while the likes of moi meal at humble food centres.

They are of the generation of abundance while moi is from a deprived and austere one. Fear began to grip me as thoughts of my future loom. I don't know where I am headed (though I know what I want but I can't seem to get it) and what to make of my present life now. I am as good as a nomad. I am no better than the stray cats or rats that roam the park.

I am like sucked into a black-hole without knowing what to do. It is times like this when I wished I had a better grasp over life's uncertainties. But I don't. The fleeting thought came and went. Just as well as I have no intention of harbouring any further thoughts of my future destiny especially since I can't control it.

I know I will never be happy with a woman but I can't seem to get Mr Right either. Am I destined to be all alone throughout my life, more so as the environment and system do not at all support the lifestyle I hanker after.

As I do not hold the key to the answers to life's destiny, I promptly thought of jogging back home quickly to settle down to some hot English tea and biscuits, just so to obliterate my gloomy thoughts for the night.

Please Patronise This Wanton Noodle Stall, Will You?

Don't accuse moi for just spewing criticism without handing out the solution. I just thought of the perfect public housing design that will ensure a panoramic view and open up all available wind channels. Build one block in the middle and to its left and right, cascade all others. The three triangular spaces to its sides and in the middle could be parking lots, landscaped gardens or other vital amenities. Don't you think this will pan out to be the "Architectural Wonder of the Next Century"? *Blink.

I visited one park connector that took me from one neighborhood town park to the river basin. Along the way, I spotted egrets, witnessed a crying tod in the arms of its mother (imagine a family in the making under a flyover), meandered through an opposition ward and experienced a bridge of love connecting a family of schools built over the river. It even had its own swimming pool and of course, the hunks (plus a couple of eye-sore - GALLS).

Speaking of which, I visited yet another much talked-about gym and it has the same offerings of facilities and hunks. Moi may just try this one out as well, right after all my other "trial runs" end at the other ones. Last night, moi went for a late-night jog and was justly rewarded with sweaty hunks running about the place. I think I am going to make this my regular running hotspot. *Blink.

It is strange that viaducts in other places are meant to be built over waters but here we have them built over roads and highways as well. We must be such ingenious people, yeah?

By the way, I promised this cheery and friendly OWO (one-woman-operated) noodle vendor whose stall lies at the cross-road between Opal Cresecent and Moonstone Lane , that I would help promote her food. The wanton mee I had was quite good, with a dash of sesame oil and a nice sauce, which makes it tasty. Not like the instant noodles that we are increasingly being subjected to at almost all food centres. So people, stop and sample her cuisine. I mean I had better fare in the heydays where noodles were real home-made reciped kind.

The sex on Mt Faber didn't happen. This liar claimed to be a good-looker but when I turned up, he was just a little stocky white as sheet piggy and he had the cheek to wanna play hard ball with moi. Pui. I may be hideous but I am not that desperate. *Blink (Hope I got that right).

But the upside was I discovered Mt Faber Park. It was a splendid view at its summit, a view stretching all across to Sentosa. There were Marina deck and Jewel Box too. And the whole place is so near to Harborfront so moi had a spot of fruit munching at its food outlet.

I watched the second round of Singapore Idol for the next batch of male finalists. I thought almost all were good save for one or two contestants. Since the last instalment would be a Wildcard proposition, it would be quite disturbing if Jay Lim, Norman Then or Randy Chua didn't make the cut. The voting got a bit of skewed I thought. I had given the female finalists' episodes the skip but Annabelle and Nurul were quite good, me thought. But they were ousted?

I aint sure what the hoo-ha is about Jac being as bland as the PAP's uniform but cut her some slack will you? She did do a mirthful take of Paul Twohill's appearance, didn't she? She was the kindest of the judges too I thought.

Ah, looks like native speakers are about to be hired in our schools to teach the English language. If I hadn't had my say on the subject yet, then let me say it now. Moi does not know what it means by "native". Who is really really really natives of the English language anyway. And if they are, prove it. If natives are to be hired to teach the English and Chinese languages, then why are non-natives teaching the Chinese language as well? We might as well hire the whole Maori tribe or aborigines if we want authentic native residents. Wouldn't we then be obsolete as a nation as all our citizens aint exactly native? Did you get that? *Blink.

There is going to be an episode on Christopher (the original SUPERMAN) and Dana Reeves. I think this will warm hearts and bring out the sniffles. I am certainly gonna watch this as this woman stuck by her man throughout his paralysis, epitomising the solemnisation of their marriage vows of "in sickness and health, till death do us part", just as Stephen Hawking's wife did.

Dwayne and Co, will you do the same for moi? This aint a marriage proposal, it is a date. *Blink.

SuperMan, The Rose Line , Sex On Mt Faber And Working Out

There he was again. Not Tony Blair. Not even Mahatma Gandhi. But "SUPERMAN".

This time, he looked even more majestic, his full 30-inch height, towering above the toppermost shelf at a Carrefour (oops, me hope me got the spelling right) store.

His handsome, chiselled face glances down menancingly at the hordes of humanity, hustling and bustling right under his brown, flapping (which by the way could double up as a short towel round your torso for pure exhibitionist fun and excitement at any sexy men's club ) cape and signature red underwear worn inside out. Oo.

The mere thought of being right under his watchful kryptonite eyes and sweaty sexy underwear is enough to set any heart of stone a-flutter. No? Think of all that fetishy fantasy you could indulge in just trying to get him stripped. Oolala.

This "action" figure (pardon the pun if you will) has limbs that can swing and a head that rotates 360 degrees. Imagine the oodles of fun you could have with limbs so nimble and a head so rotatable, blow-jobs by a human would be obscenely inferior to what "SUPERMAN" can do.

I SIMPLY MUST HAVE HIM! Someone please, spare moi the $69.90 to mop up this action hero figurine. I will be eternally grateful and we could split the fun and have twice the orgasm?

Now that I have time to sit still and ponder the wonders of the universe (even though Stephen Hawking's "The Hawking Paradox" has now proven to be false), I just realised my bodily mutilation lines along a left meridien, much like the "Rose Line" of "The Da Vinci Code" fame.

This can only mean one thing. MOI's body is the "Holy Temple Of Sacredness". TADAH! How's that for a real shocker! It could also mean that deep within me body lies buried the ancient treasures of the sacred feminine and masculine. The "yin-yang" of "qi" and "ji" (not the prostitution sort, mind you).

No wonder I have trouble trying to court Dwayne and his cousin/s. It must be my "qi" that "qu", so they exited the moment they sensed me "ji". What a lousy proverbial and antiquated wise Chinese belief. Dwayne and cousin/s, if you are reading this, please respond appropriately.

As I pen this blog, moi is awaiting the next moment of moi's life happening within the next two hours. I am supposed to meet up a real, hot, good-looking dude who lives near Mount Faber. I am supposed to rump him and I can imagine the screams and yelps as the "bonk bonk" sound reverberates around the entire circumference of the park.

The tourists up in the cable cars may even have a peek at us through the glass windows and decide they wanna try it out for themselves, man, woman or child. This way, the Singapore tourism dollar rises and we put ourselves on the world map for raw rauchiness in full public view.

Even the monkeys and birds inhabiting the park never will have it so good. The most they can is to bare their teeth or chirp a song. They can't moan or groan like a human do, can they?

Moi is still working out at this renowned gym. I like the ab machines very much but the older ones are creakily unhinged and loose so they have lost their intended salubrious effect. There are one or two very "weird" machines which don't seem to be built for human consumption. You can't move or work them very well without having to tip-toe . Any machine on tip-toe is not designed for the human body but for a ballerina.

In between, moi manages to steal a few snatches here and there visiting the public gyms (where the hunksters and youngsters are - somehow there is something temptingly succulent about a young dude's body and physique) and another equally renowned gym.

At this equally renowned gym, one branch has a breath-taking view of the sea and Singapore skyline. Equally breath-taking were the hunks showering and walking nude in the changing rooms. A handful had beautifully tattooed bodies. Yum yum.

It was an eyeful of sexually-exciting candies in colored lollipop flavors. I promised myself a "trial" test (meaning sampling the candies) of this equally famous gym some time soon in the future, right after I am done with the other equally well-known gym.

Did I mention all the time moi was lounging in the hall watching television that moi had never tasted a stir of breeze except for the very, very, very rare occasion. This shows that the "clustering" had not only obliterated the view but blocked all wind channels. Take this down, designers, the next time you plan your next monumental housing project.

And yes, Dwayne and company, when I surf at a public institution, your chatter-boxes somehow aren't there but at cybercafes, they miraculously appear for moi to post comments. Right now, I am sitting and blogging while gawking the incredible hunks that seem to traverse every sphere of my life wherever I go. Even right now at this moment. Beautiful.

I hope I get to ogle some LJs while peeing in the public toilets too. That would be the highlight of my life for sure. *Wink wink.

Gimme A Photo-Break Ok?

Why is it that every time you wanna date a guy , he wans your pic before anything else? I mean what do looks have anything to do with anything? I mean it is just a date for a friendship, not sex or a "man-hunt" quest, right? So what is it with photos?

I can be most un-photogenic. But in real life, I look better than I think. All my dumpsters can testify to that. Otherwise why would they dump moi? Because they were the beasty ones, not moi. Moi is the "beauty". They couldn't bear the thought of their ugly, filthy paws violating and defiling an art of beauty and physique.

It is also the gospel truth that I simply can't upload any of me photos even if I happen to snap a Michelangelo nude in the mirror. Many of the comps in public places have their CPUs disabled or locked away. They are intended for pure surfing or gaming fun, not dabble in digital technology.

One way I found myself working round this "conundrum" is to suggest a meet-up, come what may. The catch is to leave after 15 minutes should I find him in need of a nose job and he thinks I need plastic surgery. That is a fair deal, is it not?

Come on guys, gimme a break. All I want is good conversation and start a relationship. But if your baloney is mustard and spiced, I would consider that too.

Body Mutilation , Home And What's Up At The Movies

I happened to read the plaque and "home" now where moi is staying was apparently built by some foreign architect or at least it had some foreign-sounding name. One really bad move must be all that clustering, so much so that the blue sky, the water and the hilly greenery in the distant horizon are all obliterated by the skyscrapers. **Sigh.

In just one week, I had my entire bodily existence mutilated. I had my cyst drained. And yes, I threw away the pain-killers and antibiotics the doc prescribed. Moi is a firm believer in not overdoing antibiotics in view of resistant strains of bugs and now that scientific research has proven that we are made up of genes and bacteria, these drugs are just gonna disturb the balance of things.

I had my earhole and tattoo. All these had caused me considerable discomfort as I can't sit really upright or lean against a backrest fully. In fact my wound had dripped blood on me clothes and bed-spread while I sleep, prompting moi to sleep on my side all the time.

I have watched "Slither" and that movie was really scary and funny both at the same time. Scary when you remember "end-of-the-world" scenario with worms taking over our planet. Funny when you observe the way the gals get zapped by its octopus tentacles. "Omen" wasn't even close to being that scary.

The Two Things That Make My Heart Go "Thump" And Why The CCR Is Truly A Natural Refuge

The first heart-thumper must certainly be women! Don't get me wrong. I am just so green with envy at the things they could do with themselves.

I had my first brush with a young Indian lady I met on the train. She had this green eye shadow, color-coordinated with her green, soft leather handbag, sari and two ignormously looped earrings starkly contrasted against her dark complexion. She looked marvellously radiant.

The Chinese lady, on the other hand, stood out with her purple lips and nails, decked out in sterling-purple earrings and rings. She wore a black turtle-neck with matching blue jeans, topped by a half-purple leather handbag and green pointed shoes. GOD! The stuff women (and girls) can do to brighten and beautify themselves!

Not to be outdone, moi had now switched to a pair of 5-cent sized, dazzling, crystalline ear studs shaped like a star within a box. Size matters as my ear-lobes are Buddha's reincarnation and a pin-sized stud just won't do. I also sport the same crystalline-studded sterling silver finger ring, handing out a lame excuse that moi is bethrothed (to I dont even know who).

Moi now contemplates dabbing on black finger-nail polish and lipstick.

The other heart-thumper is "SUPERMAN". Because of the movie tie-in, Mattel had put out several "Superman" action figures (be forewarned, all carry the "Made In China" label).

I was, in particular, attracted to this 30 inch (which tops even a man's XXL whopper) figurine. I felt all parts of its anatomy and they were all rock solid polymer carved out in defined musculature. So if I can't sleep in with a real-live man, I reckon I might as well have a substitute, doubling up as a sex toy or dildo even. The only hold-back was its exorbitant price!

I journeyed to visit my ex-classmate today to see if I could dispose of my investment so that I could be on the Forbes' list overnight. Apparently I couldn't because Bill Gates had beaten moi to it. But guess what, I had an even better deal while on the bus.

A young, fair, handsome, athletic, albeit slightly pimply, man (or boy) plonked his hard ass next to me. He edged so close to moi, I could feel his warmth and thighs grating on mine. I had never had a man so close to me for a very long time now and I immediately stoned! I wanted to do more, like slide my fingers up his shorts, huggle or something but somehow better sense kept me in check. WHAT A HAPPENING CHANCE I HAD PASSED UP! SHITTY BOLLOCKS!

No matter, I did have my fill when checking out the two latest, new and upgraded Community Clubs. Both had indoor basketball courts which means no more sun-kissed Adonises but it is a small price to pay for gawking sweaty, topless, washboard hunks "at play". In fact one had a "window to the hunky world" kinda concept where you could peer at them "playing" while seated inside the community library. Oo. Glass-bowl voyeurism!

The Central Catchment Reserve is 100 times, if not a million times, in size when compared to any puny town park in any town (although there is one which looks like a mini-ECP). So there is absolutely no basis for comparison at all. That means there isn't any over-crowding. Imagine a five-room flat bursting at the seams if there were a score of multi-generational families living within it.

No man-made landscaping can beat its natural landscaping with its gravelled dirt track shaded for most part of the way by trees and boardwalks edging the clean, bluish-green water (unlike all those un-natural ponds). There is only one cafe on a hill-top, unlike all the commercial establishments at the other town parks, which only serve to attract the hordes, which isn't natural anymore. You can go for hours on end here but probably finish within an hour or so at the other town parks.

If you still can't see the difference, you prolly need "progressive" lenses. This is the latest in opthalmology where your lens is divided into far, near and intermediate areas.

Amen.

Yer Good Luck And Mine

Surprise! I am blogging again. I just finished me workout at a renowned gym. I have been going round its few branches to have a peek at what it has in store. It has some really great equipment for lateral raises and a myriad of stuff for just each body part. I had a full body analysis and was assigned a complimentary personal trainer for one session (no wonder he is free!).

After snacking on a Subway sandwich and gulping down a cup of Acapulco juice, I noticed a free internet kiosk just round the corner. So here I am, blogging. Just my luck and yours. I get to yak and you get to read a B-O-N-U-S blog!!!!! Tada.

So what shall I talk about. Right. I noticed there are many words or phrases in the English language that do not actually tell the whole story. So if I had said that Mr Psycho was bald, you won't really know if he had little or no hair right? If I had said bald-pated, you would. But what if someone had just a little turf sticking out of his pate? What do you call that? Turf-bald?

By the way as I passed by Mr Psycho's residence today, he was actually pottering in his "garden" again. He had hung some drapery (which is some old, soiled linen, trust me, I know every inch of cobweb and dust around the place) across me ex-room's porch. I think he is doing this to satisfy some psychotic need inside of him to decorate and redecorate, hailing from his "hair designing" days. Who knows, he may be thinking of being the next miraculous revival of "Old Scissorhands Of Down The Dumps East"?

I watched one episode of "The Nanny" and it was a very telling story. It was about this family where the son had to be force-fed as he shuns food. It doesn't help that meal-times are turned into a mortal combat of sorts with Mom yelling and pushing and shoving and son screaming and yelping. By the end of the episode, with Nanny's help of course, son Brandon is actually roped in to help prepare and cook meals.

What a turn-around! It smacks so much of an Asian family setting where somehow fat and chubby toddlers are held in high esteem for its purported healthier and more well-fed outlook. It also reminds moi of the battleground schools have turned into with educators on one side and pupils on the other. Everything is "issues galore".

Because we are so concentrated on "forced eating", we forgot to relax and just let things naturally progress. In education, we are so concentrated on "exams and grades" (that means the number of credits or distinctions) , we forgot to focus on the "joy of learning" process. We forgot to create that ambience and opportunity for learning and self-discovery.

I met some personal bankers, young business graduates. Certainly they have been trained in the knowledge of the financial products they were selling but when I throw a few questions down their way, they could not fathom and apply the knowledge they have or go beyond that. It is a sure case of loads of memorisation and rattling off a standard template. Much like answering an essay question in an examination within a limited time frame. Does it test anything?

It also seems that Asian parents do look upon their children more as economic productive units (much like most Asian states) rather than as bundles of joy whom they wanna bring into the world to love, give and receive. I can understand if the older generation needs this support as they are not as educated and thus need financial assistance from their children.

But with each passing generation, parents have to be financially independent. That is why moi wants to be in this position. Anyway it isn't my style to ask for hand-outs. I wanna make my own money and spend it the way I see fit, with no-one breathing down my neck. I also do not want to be a burden to my kid especially in this economic times where the future generation may not even be earning enough to feed themselves.

And I, for sure, want my money for retirement NOW. We won't know what will happen. I can not work all of a sudden due to ill health or something (like the back-breaking fall I had) .With cash on hand, you feel safer and in control. And in your own home too.

Remember how dowries are a must when a daughter is married off in some societies? Sometimes it makes you think if it was a marriage or a cash transaction. Selling your daughter?

I also caught the trailer of the female finalists for Singapore Idol. I am not sure if the segment I watched did justice to any of their vocals but oh my god, I don't think even one measured up to their idols' songs they hoped to mimick. Just not within their vocal range. Maybe only Melissa would make it, I thought. By the way I didn't watch either episode of the "performance" or the "results" so I don't know who won even though the winner would have been announced by now.

It isn't as if I want to be in the position I am in now. I can't get out of it. Every stinking bastard I come across just push me into this tight corner I am in now. I have no where to go, no work to do, so what do you want me to do? All these bitches and bastards only open their mouths to yak, providing me with no concrete solution or action plan. Damn you and do not second guess what I am thinking or assume a whole host of stuff which isn't true.

I know best what I wanna do. I am not into any special education. Neither do I want to be with "at risk" youths. Hey, I may be riskier than they are! I wanna do gifted education. So there! Cross my heart , burn my lips and scorch my tongue. I think I just said it.

Oh yes my wishlist just got wider to include a tour of Europe and the Middle East.

To the credit of the urban planners, "home" where I am now has the apartments very well landscaped and seamlessly integrated with the parking lots and roof-top gardens. The rooms are also well-proportioned and the bay windows , available only in the living hall, let in lots of natural light.

But moi happens to be at a remote, far-flung "terminal point" of the mass rapid transit system. With no more than 5 bus services running here, it means traversing the whole length of the mass rapid transit just to get to the other parts of Singapore. Not only that, there is no sports facilities, library or LAN shop (remember I don't own a computer anymore and this is for surfing not gaming) anywhere. To do a spot of Microsofting is even near impossible at some LAN shops, especially if your files are on floppy or something, not to say of the place here. Life is practically zilch.

To get to the next neigboring town takes at least an hour by bus . In fact I need to hop on to its neighboring town's bus terminal en-route to my destination. Journeys sometimes look like this : LRT-MRT-Bus-Bus.

It is ironical that just to stretch or exercise, you need to take a bus to get there. The concrete trail , though reminiscent of the Benjamin Sheares bridge, offers no respite from vehicular traffic (it is a connecting viaduct after all). The only refuge is a trail edged on a murky, foul-smelling, polluted canal/body of water/river. The only memorable occasion I witness here is of a bird which spiral-dived, head-on, into the water to catch its food.

It is just shop, eat, rot and sleep away your time here. A ghost town with a ghost train to boot. One small train to hold the peak-hour crowd.

The galls are really getting on my nerves, especially this bitch ass at the gym, a senior instructress no less. Before she shoots off her mouth, I wished she had put more thought and tact in her "communication". Otherwise I would have to reason with her and show her how flawed her logic and thinking is. Anyway if you are reading this, SHUT UP.

I won't blog about it here as I have written in a report on that incident. It seems I need to write to get things off me system.

Of Mice And Men

Ah, there was a score of them, I reckon. Sweaty, smelly, tanned army hunks out on a NDP exercise. After some pep talk from their superior, they were dismissed and all hell broke loose. They came charging into the showers and that terribly terrible terrible stench.

Sorry moi was all done up and I may be a slut whore at times but that doesn't mean I don't stick by some hygiene rules. If moi were as sweaty and smelly as they were, hey, it would have been a fusion of twos, maybe even threes. But as it is, moi stuck his nose up in the air and walked away. Sorry guys! **Wink wink.

Mr He-Ape has a "school" presence in the neighborhood. Judging from the couple of office suites he is occupying , their layout and its monopolistic hold within the precinct, he seems to be doing pretty well. All this for blood-sucking off un-suspecting preys. I chanced upon its flyer (so if his "school" is so good and news of its reputation (or infamy) gets spread around by word of mouth, why does he need a flyer doing the rounds in the estate? Explain that.).

Strewn with grammatical errors (and this coming from a "school" player for 19 years) , it proclaims its "best" program, how "only the best serve the "school"" (She-Ape was the best? *laugh my hard arse off) and a whole load of crapshit. It highlighted its top PSLE scorers and credited their successes to it (rather than the schools these pupils attend - who spend more time with the students?).

This laugh-a-minute, self-praisy flyer must take the cake for cheesiness.

Ah, moi had his ear peirced, adorned with a gleaming blue stud. Moi also has part of his anatomy tattooed. For the hour or so, moi sat and cringed as a searing pain tore through his body and mind you, this is only a golf-ball sized spherical design in nice shades of green. I can't imagine how one could endure a whole body tattoo! Only "intimate" curios will get to know where my tattoo is!

I am having problems with this doorway broom. Every time I sweep up the dust, dirt and grime, it sheds its bristles. Talk about sweeping after a broom.

Ok I just have about enough time to blog a little here. Till then, adios.

Singapore Idol Rocks, I Venerate Thee, TV And Movies Rock, Gym Etiquette, Evan And Home

The national newspaper carried an article on developments of the internet as an alternative platform for political views. The James Gomez saga came up again for mention and a newly-elected MP even had her say at a university's forum discussion.

Seriously I am also baffled by James Gomez. I would have understood if he had just cited a moment of forgetfulness in stashing away the document instead of handing it over or perhaps that he had meant to submit it some other time instead of over the counter that very day. Somehow this did become a saga of sorts. Hmmmmm, so what is really up?

Watching Singapore Idol really got me all worked up. Just speaking for that "piano show" episode of the 7 male finalists, it is no secret that the last three contestants were clearly the winners with their big voices (although one will be booted).

However how can we ever expect our local talent to sing the songs they pick like their Western counterparts and just as professionally? In the first place, do they even have a choice? I mean they could only pick songs that way, right, from a platter of Western pop rock or other genres? So it couldn't have been the pick of the song that makes or breaks.

In fact their idols' songs were specially penned for them, weren't they? I mean Celine Dion has her composer composing the song which matched her vocals, right? Or Mariah Carey or Whitney Houston?

What we should have done is to have composers compose songs more suited to our local talents' vocal ranges (I mean for the sake of the other losing contestants who can't really measure up to Paul Twohill, Norman Then and Jonathon Leong - how many people can sing like that?).

Clement Chow penned and sang our NDP song and didn't it come out really swell? Or if you care to remember the "Courtesy" jingle of old, that was real snappy too. Or our "Majullah Singapura". So it should have been a showcase of our "real" local talent.

Oh my God! That pop rock musician I raved about in my earlier blog who sat next to moi in the LAN shop was de facto a Singapore Idol finalist. *Swoons. I sat next to a "Singapore Idol finalist", can you imagine that? *Screams. For all I know, he could even be the next Singapore Idol. *Swoons again.

From now on, that seat where he sat would be venerated ok. Everytime moi blog in that LAN shop, moi will kow-tow 1000x to it and scream his lungs out. *Winks. Oo. And his audience that night cried and poked fun at his last name too.

There are many good shows on TV right now. Oprah Winfrey rocks. Two and A Half Men rocks. ET rocks too. X-Men, the Last Stand and probably the last instalment n a trilogy, certainly symbolises very well what gays would have wanted, the Golden Gate Bridge unhinged and reaching across the San Francisco Bay to Alcatraz, I think. A bridge to humanity? Milk of human kindness? Human contact with the isolated and different? Wasn't that how the X-men felt?

I remember riding the Greyhound bus from LA to San Francisco and when this brick red bridge came into sight, I was actually hopping excited.

Did I also mention a little boy sat next to me at a computer terminal one night and he was so cute, I had to make gooey eyes at him? Or that I bumped into Evan, the other one of a pair of Ozzie kiddos I ranted about? They just live across from moi with their grandparents and will be moving back to Ozland once their vacation here is over. Don't think I wanna get too close with dudes who are leaving so soon.

Hey this LRT is really slow as a choo-choo train chugging along the rails. I could actually see it in the distance, chugging its way round the tracks, as slow as a 100 year old's erection. As I said, living around the central catchment area offered moi a respite, a retreat into a world of natural surrounds. Where moi's home is now, I can't even take a stroll anywhere. It doesn't offer any refuge anywhere. And no gym, no pool, no community club (so moi can gape at the basketball hunks) no nothing. And this is life?

Gym etiquette 101: Please do not hover like a hawk either in front or behind a fellow gymmie. I mean if you wanna share the "equipment" (and I don't mean anything else, if you think it, it is just your filthy mind ok) with him, just go up to him, smile and say so. Don't hover. Hey and I mean the women too. They hover so. But I won't do anything for you though ( stick out tongue).

I mean moi goes weak in the muscles like that and you won't want him to drop his weights on your toes now, do you? Or on your wherever? And I am scared too. All those incredible hulks could just come up to me and drop their shorts at a moment's notice and ask moi to do "unmentionables". I can't take too big a bratwurst ok. I would oblige if you ask politely though. *Wink. So who is the austitic one here?

I want TLC, not rough harsh words or anything. I need love. Not hate. I want peace, not war. Do you understand? Good. Drop your shorts, NOW! I oblige.